


A Coward in Charge

by AcidRainSoup



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftercare, Awesome Prussia (Hetalia), Brothers Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Cute North Italy (Hetalia), Fluff, Gen, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidRainSoup/pseuds/AcidRainSoup
Summary: England stumbles upon the Axis Powers alone while they're training, and is easily captured by Germany who decides this could be the perfect opportunity to teach Italy to be better at confrontation. Contains the mouth-soaping of a rude Brit.This fanfic was suggested and therefore is dedicated to BubblesGoesPop on Deviantart.
Kudos: 10





	A Coward in Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BubblesGoesPop](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=BubblesGoesPop).



The setting sun caused the patches of dirt among the dry earth to cast frond-like shadows on the ground as England managed to wiggle his way out of the cell that had held him moments ago. To help speed up his escape, the dust and grime-covered nation grasped handfuls of the cool grass, grunting as he finally managed to slip out through the small barred window the cell had built into it. His hips and arms ached from all of the work they had been burdened with, the former more from the intense friction that had been befallen them as he had tried to wiggle out. But it was all over now.

While gathering up his strength and breath, England recounted how he had been captured by the Axis Powers. It had been a stroke of bad luck, really. He had wandered into one of the lush forests of Italy, hoping to spy on the odd group by himself, seeing as the other Allies had been more irritating than usual. While lost in his thoughts about all of their flaws and how much better he was compared to them, he stumbled into the Axis training field thanks to a large tree root that had been half covered by leaves and dirt.

"Mr. Germany, rook! It is Mr. Engrand." Japan's soft voice was slightly raised so it could reach his comrades' ears from across the clearing. Germany looked up from where he had been pushing his weight into the toes of Italy's boots so he had no way to get up and run while doing rather weak sit-ups. Getting up and grabbing the smaller nation he had been training by the wrist so he couldn't sneak away, the blond hurried over to where Japan was watching England attempt to get to his feet.

"Good eye, Japan." Was the reply Germany gave his ally before releasing Italy so he had both hands free to grab England by the back of his uniform and haul him under one of his muscular arms like he was a load of lumber. "Seeing as this is your land, Italy, it vould seem you have yourself a häftling."

Italy whimpered as he clutched the clean fabric of Japan's training shirt, tucking himself fearfully behind his friend even though England was never going to manage to free himself from the German's iron grip unassisted. He had at first liked the idea of having only one Ally around as it put a hold on their dumb training, but now...

"A-a prisoner?! No, I'a can't do that, Germany! He'll get'a out and attack and make fun of'a me!" Italy cried out in protest, clinging to Japan even tighter as he continued to ramble on, which made Japan a little uncomfortable and confused. 

Groaning in annoyance, Germany forced Italy to let go of Japan and jerked his thumb in the direction of which they had come from. "It vill be okay, Italy. Ve vill help you. You need to learn to take charge in case Japan and I cannot be vith you." 

Italy tried to talk him out of it, but the German ignored him, leading the way to a crumbling building not far from one of Venice's beautiful villages that contained a cell. It was most likely an abandoned jailhouse to keep crazed drunks and those of little threat in until they'd calmed down. England had been tossed into the cell roughly, and to make matters worse, Germany's older brother had arrived saying he had been heading to the training spot and heard them. 

The silver-haired nation had caused him quite a headache, which only encouraged England further to make his escape, being able to do so while Prussia tried to coax the Axis Powers to chug beer with him. His excited shouts and Germany's loud denials hid England's movements well, so here he was now, trying his best to get up from the ground to get away before his captors found him. But to his dismay, bumbling footsteps that belonged to a very intoxicated nation approached.

"Ah-ha! I knew I heard something that smelled veird!" Prussia announced, confident in the nonsense he had just uttered as he rushed over to grab England's wrist. "No vone can escape zhe awesome Prussia, even vhen he is completely vasted!"

"Bloody hell, get away from me, you drunken git!" England shrieked as Prussia began dragging him back to the building he had put so much effort into escaping. "If you don't let me go right this minute, I will make sure you and your towhead brother pay!" 

"Hahaha, zhat is so funny! No one can beat zhe awesome Prussia!" The arrogant nation declared once more, pulling the half unhinged door to the prison building open with enough force that it slammed against the wall, grabbing the attention of the three countries who had remained inside. 

Germany ground his teeth together in frustration, upset to see his brother with the Europe-sized ego swaggering in with England who was covered in dirt and bits of grass, the latter causing his palms to be stained green. In an attempt to train his friend in the ways of being a thorough captor, the blond had ordered Italy to stand watch over the cell while he and Japan continued to talk about their battle tactics as Italy never paid attention to such things under normal circumstances. Apparently, he didn't find it necessary to pay attention in regards to the task he had been given instead as well.

"Italy, care to explain how England got out on your watch?"

The smaller country cringed at the question, tensing up with fear. "I-I-I may'a have fallen addormentato." Italy mumbled sheepishly, wincing when Germany scrubbed at his face with a hand and England sneered up at him arrogantly.

"You're all bloody daft putting that pasta-loving dork in charge of watching me." England said with a snort, earning disapproving glares from both Germany and Prussia while Japan remained passive as always. Neither of the European brothers was particularly fond of their intelligence being mocked and were very protective of Italy. 

"Don't talk about sweet little Italy like zhat!" Prussia scolded quickly, shaking the shaggy-haired blond man who remained in his grip like a rag doll. "He is a very, very guter junge."

Recovering as quickly as he was able to with his insides sloshing around from the physical disturbance, England glared at Prussia over his shoulder. "That is exactly my point, beer for brains! How can you expect him to be a useful ally when he can't even contain an imprisoned enemy? He is a complete imbecile!"

With each verbal blow, Italy's shoulders and knees turned in more and more. He didn't want to be useless and wasn't trying to be. It was just that hard work was overwhelming, and things like food and finding ways to entertain himself tended to take over his mind when tasks were placed in his hands. And he did try whenever he could, doing his very best to make his friend proud. Was he not proud of him at all? Sniffling, Italy rushed over to Germany's side and clung to him, hoping it wasn't true. "Mi dispiace, Germany! Please do not'a hate me!" He wailed helplessly.

Grumbling unintelligibly as he patted Italy's back in as lulling a pattern as he could, the bigger nation closed his eyes as he tried to come up with a way to shut England up and teach his sobbing ally to stand up for himself. His resulting idea was childish, but it wasn't incredibly extreme, so he believed Italy would be able to do it after some coaxing. Having made up his mind, the German grabbed the rude English man from his brother and guided Italy over to Prussia in return, dragging their prisoner back to the dingy cell.

"What the hell are you doing?" England snapped with far too much authority and smugness in his voice for his own good, especially given his position. Germany simply ignored his pointed question and asked Japan to grab one of the rickety stools kept in the far corner of the room and then keep watch outside. The quiet nation obliged, giving his ally what he had asked for before slipping out of the crumbling building without verbalizing any questions he may have.

Germany wasted no time plunking England harshly on the stool and held him in place by putting sturdy weight on the latter's shoulders to keep him from getting up. "Brother, grab some rope, water, und seife from my knapsack." He quipped as England began to struggle more and more due to nervousness and ignorance.

"Don't you even dare think of tying me down! And what is seife?!" He demanded, butchering the German word as Prussia nodded curtly and rummaged through the bag Germany kept on his person during training. He got his answer when Prussia entered the cell with a coil of rope, a goat waterskin, and a half-wrapped bar of soap.

"Zhat, is what seife is." Germany finally answered, slicing up bits of the coil of rope to render England's legs immobile and tie his arms together at the wrists behind his back. He then turned his attention to the cowering nation that remained outside of the cell. "Italy, come here, please."

Taking shaky, hesitant steps, Italy obeyed for fear of what should happen to him if he did not do as he was asked. "Sì?" He piped up quietly, feeling a bit more comfortable when Prussia came over to his side and stroked his hair like he was a startled cat. 

Germany took in his obvious anxiety and spoke in a calm, non-threatening tone. "Ve all know you are not zhe best when it comes to authority und standing up for yourself. So, ve vill take things schleppend. To punish England for speaking to you poorly, you vill vash his mouth out vith soap." As he explained, the German poured water within the skin onto the soap to dampen it, and held out the prepared bar for Italy to grab. All the while, England gawked at them in disbelief before realizing what he was doing and snapping his mouth shut tightly.

"G-Germany, I can't do'a that!" Italy protested, backing up a bit to hit the firm wall that was Prussia standing behind him. The usually care-free nation patted the small brunette on the shoulder, placing his other hand on Italy's side so it would be easy to grab him if he tried to run off.

"It's okay, Veneziano," he whispered grabbing the bar from his younger brother to guide it into Italy's hands delicately. "It's not like you're beating him up, right? Zhis will make sure England doesn't say anymore mean stuff about you, is all. It won't hurt, it'll just taste bad. He should be used to it zhough, since he alvays eats British food." Prussia joked, easing Italy's worries a bit though it added to England's tempered thrashing. What Prussia was saying made sense. Italy didn't want to be called names anymore, and make sure Germany was proud of him. 

Quivering a little bit, Italy looked over at Germany and their flustered prisoner and nodded shallowly, accepting his challenge. He didn't want to let either of them down knowingly. "O-okay. I'll give it a try."

Satisfied, Germany grunted his approval of Italy's decision and kept a strong hold on England who was writhing about as if the country he had been so passionately insulting minutes earlier held within his shaky hands a lethal injection. "Sehr gut, Italy." He encouraged as his friend slowly drew closer. "All you must do is run the damp part of zhe bar up und down his tongue for a minute or two."

Holding in a whimper as England fixed him with an enraged glare complete with a burning gaze as persistent as it could be and a frown as tight as a tripwire, the anxious nation allowed his ally to guide one of his unsure hands behind the Brit's head. Germany then used his strong hands to forcefully pry their prisoner's mouth open wide at the sides, latching onto his jaw with one, and cupping the top row of his teeth with the other. England tried to clamp his jaw shut to not only protect his mouth but do some damage to his enemy's fingers in the hopes of getting the German to release his grip. But to no avail, his attempts only tired his jaw further, making him even more helpless in such a dire situation.

"Okay, Italy. Go ahead." 

The encouragement only caused panic to writhe within Italy's stomach in harsh, radical waves. He was terrified for so many reasons. England might attack him, bite his finger off, there were endless possibilities. But England would most definitely hate him, and that scared him the most. Italy didn't want people to dislike him, and though he knew the Brit was a part of an enemy force, he still longed for peace and prayed everyone would get along at some point in the future. But right now, he had a duty to fulfill and had no way of backing out of it.

Quivering like a leaf about to be snapped from its tree's limb, Italy said nothing as Prussia guided the bar equipped hand to help him, recognizing the small nation was struggling to make his first move. The Italian flinched as England shrieked in rage, though it was cut off as the soap met his mouth. The bar had a lovely scent that pleased the nose and made one believe they were in a lovely flowered meadow if their eyes were closed. Its taste was anything but satisfying, ripping that meadow from one's mind's eye apart brutally. Tears instantly pricked in the receiver's eyes, barely noticing as Germany slipped his fingers from his mouth.

The bar of soap was steadily brushed up and down the Brit's tongue, coating it multiple times with the solidified oil and lye mixture, creating rippling chills down England's whole body with each stroke. Even his saliva was tainted by the foreign object one was not supposed to taste and eat for many obvious reasons. Italy bleated like a frightened lamb with each indignant noise England made, but they were hidden by the louder noises the latter was producing and his eyes were clamped shut.

After a few moments, Prussia removed his hand from Italy's arm and watched with relief as the nation continued the back and forth gesture, grabbing at his victim's shaggy blond hair with his other hand tightly due to fear as it was already at his fingers. This made England even more uncomfortable as the hair draping over his neck was tugged at fiercely, causing him to bite down on the soap bar by mistake thanks to surprise. This was a brutal error as bits of soap clung to his teeth while others managed to move to the roof of his mouth. Gone for England was the cowardly country he had taunted and patronized not long ago. He suddenly felt himself growing to fear Italy of all countries, his breath hitching as he began to sob while being punished. This coward was in charge now.

Germany watched in sheer surprise as his ally went on, unsure of what to think of what was unfolding in front of him. He had been certain Italy would have dropped the bar and ran off tearfully by now, but he was still going strong. Prussia caught his brother's eyes and nodded shallowly to show he was thinking the same thing. Germany suddenly felt his stricter side transitioning to the passenger seat as the protective friend side of him took the wheel. Sighing a little, he rested a strong hand on his companion's shoulder, breaking the Italian's forced concentration. 

"Zhat vill do, for now, Italy." He said in a gentle tone usually only used when regarding the nation before him. The brunette looked up at the German with a grateful expression on his angelic face, nodding wordlessly as he removed the soap bar and released his grip on England. It was a great relief to do so, and his body instantly sagged with fatigue. That experience had emptied his energy completely, and a nice nap was in order. 

Prussia praised him kindly, using the pet name he had come up with after spending time with Japan. "Gut gemacht, Ita-Chan. Du hast es so gut gemacht."

"Thank you," Italy responded, happy to see Prussia was proud of him. But was Germany? The man that held the nation's thoughts was currently busying himself untying England from his bonds. The latter was crying—silently though, as he still had a stubborn pride that was not allowing him to slip that low now that the punishment had ceased—but it was still easily noticeable. Two uneven red trails were left behind on his pink face where a multitude of tears had gone, his lovely eyes were glassy and a pale shade of scarlet from spewing them generously. Once he was free of the ropes, England was half-dragged half-carried to the cell's small cot. 

As soon as he was set on the lumpy mattress, England regained a bit of his composure and shoved Germany's hands away weakly, too shaky to fight any further than that. "L-Leave me be!" He demanded the discipline he had just received seemingly taking all of the well-executed insults he knew from his mouth to replace them with soap. Not one to comment on such things in response as Germany found mockery childish, he simply left the cell alongside his brother and friend and locked the barred room once more.

Scratching at the back of his neck, Germany led the way to a far corner of the crumbling building so they could speak, and called Japan inside. Once everyone was settled, the German clapped Italy fondly on the back and kept his arm around him as they talked about what they could do next against The Allies. Italy took the rare affection happily and snuggled up to his own ally's side where he eventually drifted off, proud of himself and very sure that Germany was too. 

When night came, everyone settled down to sleep after a bit of drinking. The events involving England's punishment had eaten up most of the afternoon, so darkness fell rather quickly. Germany made sure the perimeter was safe enough for them to close their eyes before wishing everyone a gruff "Goodnight," as he headed towards the cell to keep watch. He paused however after two paces when a gentle hand grasped at the heal of his boot.

"Germany, I want'a to take the first watch," Italy said quietly from his place on the floor, covered by a cozy-looking blanket. Sleep still weighed on his eyelids, but his sincerity and determination were obvious. 

"Oh, uhh... are you sure, Italy? You don't have to."

"I want'a to, Germany, at least for a little. I won't'a fall asleep, I'a promise." 

Germany paused to consider this for a while, his mind racing to analyze the many different outcomes of agreeing and disagreeing. He was glad Italy wanted to help out and it would give him time to rest and properly process what had unfolded not too long ago, and if he were to disagree, Italy may become discouraged, but they might also lose England again. Finally, he came to a compromise.

"Okay, you can keep watch for a little, and I vill come to check on you now and zhen until it is my turn," Germany concluded, helping Italy to his feet. But before the nation could proudly waltz over to the cell, he was stopped as Germany continued to speak.

"I am glad things vent so vell earlier, but... I think what I had you do was a bit too much for your first go. So, ve vill continue to bring up your leadership, but in baby steps. Does zhat sound good to you?" He asked, hoping he hadn't traumatized his only friend. The Italy he had seen earlier wasn't him at all, and it bothered Germany more than he had expected it would.

After a moment of consideration, Italy smiled cheerfully, wrapping his thin arms around Germany's neck. "Okay! That sounds'a great, Germany. I know you just wanted to help'a me, even if I was a bit'a scared."

Satisfied, Germany nodded his approval for Italy to go ahead, sitting down to take a bit of a break. Knowing what to do next, Italy scampered over to the cell and peeped inside to find England spitting out saliva onto the floor in an attempt to get some of the soap taste out of his mouth. When the Brit spotted his enemy, he blushed a little and looked away, upset he had been caught in a moment of weakness.

"Go away." He snapped, wiping his mouth with his dirty sleeve. This was so humiliating, where were his so-called allies when he needed them? At least they hadn't turned up during the event, as he would be teased endlessly for it. "You've had your fun, just leave me in peace."

Looking down at the floor in guilt, Italy scrambled inwardly to find something he could say in response. Before he could, something caught his ever-fleeting attention from the corner of his eye. Leaning against the wall just outside of the cell out of England's reach was Germany's waterskin. Biting his lip, Italy padded over to scoop it up, finding it about half full. Turning to face his imprisoned enemy, the Italian slipped the object past the rusting bars. 

"H-Here. It's will help with your'a mouth..." 

Eyeing him suspiciously, England got up slowly, snatched the waterskin up, and filled his mouth with water, sloshing it around thoroughly before sending it to the cold stone floor. He then downed the remaining gulps of liquid greedily and exhaled in content when it was empty. "Thank you, I suppose."

"You're'a welcome. Are you okay, England?" Italy squeaked, pressing his pointer fingers together anxiously. He hated that he was the reason the trapped Brit was so miserable. 

England scoffed, setting the skin down on the floor. "I'm bloody fine, I've been through worse. Just leave me be."

The nation outside the cell was quiet for a moment before he drew closer hesitantly as if expecting a brutal attack. Italy shakily took up the cell keys that hung on the wall, and unlocked the cell, slipping inside quietly. England's eyes widened as he watched, unsure of what to do. He could try slipping past the coward, but then he would have to deal with the others. So he stood still, tensing up just in case he needed to fight. But Italy had the exact opposite in mind. He intended to apologize the best way he knew.

England gasped a little in surprise when Italy hugged him, his sadness and worry eminent in how gentle his touch was. Being a big brother, he was the one used to giving comforting hugs, so being on the receiving of such direct affection was very confusing. When he was later analyzing the situation, he pegged that for the only sane reason he returned the embrace.

Moments later, Germany walked over to check on his ally and chuckled softly. There was the Italy he knew and appreciated. Taking a second to become serious, the blond man walked over and grabbed their attention by clearing his throat. England instantly jumped back, his face flushing once more being caught in such an odd situation. If he had no more dignity left, he would scream into the cot mattress in frustration. 

"Come along, Italy. You shouldn't be in there." 

Instantly the shorter nation made his way out of the cell and handed the keys to Germany bashfully. "Scusa!" He yelped, worried his friend was angry. But he wasn't, and the small, amused smile sent Italy's way was enough to ease his apprehension.

"It is okay, Italy. Never apologize for being yourself." Germany said warmly, ruffling his comrade's hair. He then began to lock the cell once more to England's bland dismay, but Italy grabbed his wrist.

"Can we let him go?" Italy asked, ever the timid pacifist. Even still, there was strength behind his words, and even in his lingering hand. The old building was silent for the next few seconds, curious as to what Germany's answer would be.

Sighing, the German put the keys back on their hook and grabbed England before he could properly react to this random act of mercy, dragging him out of the cell and past a horrified Prussia who urged his brother to put the Brit back. 

"Sorry, brother," Germany replied, an almost playful smile gracing his narrow lips. "Italy is in charge, and he says we must let him go."

Leaving both of the remaining nations in a state of pure shock, the three others exited the building and walked over to the training field where it all began hours ago. Germany set England on his feet when they came close to the trees that he had emerged from and began walking back without a word, a hand at Italy's back so he wouldn't linger and possibly get taken if England was feeling vengeful. But instead, the Brit did something neither of them had expected, just like when he had been hugged by Italy. 

"I'm very sorry for picking on you, Italy. You are a good nation." And with that, England allowed himself to be swallowed up by looming shadows of the trees as he went off in search of his allies, wishing Italy was on his side. But really, Italy treated everyone like they were.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Häftling- German for, Prisoner  
> Addormentato- Italian for, Asleep  
> Guter junge- German for, Good boy  
> Mi dispiace- Italian for, I'm sorry  
> Seife- German for, Soap  
> Sì- Italian for, Yes  
> Schleppend- German for, Slow  
> Sehr gut- German For, Very good  
> Gut gemacht, Ita-Chan. Du hast es so gut gemacht.- German for, Well done, Ita-Chan. You did so good.  
> Scusa!- Italian for, Sorry


End file.
